


Bite

by Zzzara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Based On a Troye Sivan Song, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bite, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottoming from the Top, Clubbing, Consensual Sex, Consent, Doctor Kink, Doctor/Patient, Doctor/Patient kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Drarry, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Harry Potter in Denial, Healer Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Negotiations, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, POV Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Resolved Sexual Tension, Self-Denial, Sexual Tension, Switching, Top Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Troye Sivan Bite, Troye Sivan Song inspired, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire Bites, Vampire Character, Vampires, all Troye's songs are Drarry AF, implied internalized homophobia, pov switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zzzara/pseuds/Zzzara
Summary: Kiss me on the mouth and set me freeSing me like a choirI can be the subject of your dreamsYour sickening desireDon't you wanna see a man up close?A phoenix in the fireSo kiss me on the mouth and set me freeBut please don't bite!Here, in this shadowy surreal world, I want just a little taste of something that I normally forbid myself to even think about. I am 28, for fuck's sake! Just once, can I allow myself a taste of a Man? When the man is right in front of me.





	Bite

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the mood of this story are borrowed from Troye Sivan's song "Bite", which has also been an inspiration for writing this fic [Troye is my never ceasing inspiration and I strongly recommend to listen to the song before reading this fic - it would give you a feeling of immersion :) ].
> 
> *it seems a summary including credits for Troye is firmly stuck with me for the time being... but what can I do? He is so talented and I love him so much, and all his songs so incredibly Drarry! I simply cannot stay away from his songs and not transmit them into Drarry-fics.*
> 
> A brief reference has been made to the perfume 'Sandal Sliver' by Montale. It is my favourite perfume ever, and I just couldn't resist :) It is a unisex fragrance, and it sounds incredible on a man; and I think it actually suits the person wearing it in this story.
> 
> English is not my native language and I don't have a beta, so forgive me all the mistakes.
> 
> [Disclaimer: all characters belong to J.K. Rowling; here I don't make any profit whatsoever; I write for my own entertainment.]

**Bite**

**I.**

_Kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_Sing me like a choir_

_I can be the subject of your dreams_

_Your sickening desire_

_Don't you wanna see a man up close?_

_A phoenix in the fire_

_So kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_But please don't bite!_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Bite']_

I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm curious, I suppose. Yeah, that's it.

Since the moment I saw him on the street. I thought I'd grown up and out of this - _thing._ I don't know how to name it. Spotting Malfoy in Muggle London at night proved me wrong. All my restlessness flared alert. It might not have been Malfoy even, come on! Most definitely it wasn't Malfoy. No way in hell you meet him here, dressed in obscenely tight leather trousers and a transparent silvery shirt; no way Malfoy wanders about in cowboy boots and smelling like a tart. All this flashed through my mind as a guy walked past me, almost brushing me with his shoulder. I stood gaping at his bright blond head: hair cropped closely at the back, longish at the top. No, couldn't be. Surely, the bastard was at his Manor, dressed to the nines in pureblood robes, wishing his elegant mother good night.

You are paranoid, I told myself but followed him anyway, maintaining a safe distance in the shadows. He moved with careless grace, strong trail of his perfume pulling me, 'cause it was sandalwood, and I love sandalwood; I may know nothing about perfumes, but I always recognise sandalwood - that's how I knew. Sandalwood and something flowery-masculine. I had no idea flowers could smell masculine.

A group of people caught up with him and he stopped, turning in the bright streetlamp light. And - _holy fuck!_ \- it _was_ Malfoy. Malfoy, wearing thick black eyeliner, so that the eyes were screaming _'look at me!'_ against the whiteness of his face. Malfoy, whose smile turned mischievous as he was shaking hands with a tall bearded man with a ponytail. Malfoy, who was wearing a transparent shirt open at the chest almost to the navel. He flicked his fringe out of his eyes with his hand - the other one - he had his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and the skin of his left forearm was pristinely-white, unblemished. The bastard. He was obviously up to something; there was no other explanation for this charade.

That is why I followed him, creeping in the dark, away from the streetlamps, right to the door with a bright neon sign _'Shades of a Rainbow'_ on it. Well, maybe not. That's not why. Maybe because I hovered around this place for, like, a few nights already, not daring to enter. And now Malfoy gave me a perfect opportunity to do so without examining my other reasons too closely. I watched him disappearing behind the door and waited a minute. 

When I enter, the throb of music surges through my very guts. It is crowded and shady and stuffy and my palms are sweaty; I wipe them at my jeans. I look around. Men. Guys, blokes, dudes. Men everywhere. Sitting at the bar, mingling in the crowd with the drinks in their hands, leaning towards each other, shouting over the music, moving on the dance floor. Dance floor. I step closer. Malfoy. He is right in the middle, under bright flashing lights that make his face and hair purple. He is dancing, dancing! In a relaxed and seductive manner, his movements so sensual... Have I just thought _'seductive and sensual'_ about Malfoy? I mean... if I were a woman, I guess I'd certainly notice him. Yeah. 'Cause, in spite of his eyeliner and a fancy shirt, he's most definitely a man – tall, with broad shoulders and a strong frame... and yet, I can't take my eyes off him for some reason. His easy confidence tells that he's in his element, while I feel itchy and jumpy and self-conscious. It probably was a bad idea to follow him here. What if someone asked me what I'm doing here? Hell if I know.

I walk around the dance floor, edging to where supposedly the bathroom should be. My eye catches a movement in the shadows and I turn. Something is going on by the wall. My eyes adjust to the dim light and I see the outline of limbs, intertwined in a struggle or... embrace? I shift a bit closer. A man is pressing someone into the wall, and the other one beneath him struggles, his hands gripping his opponent's shirt at the back, tugging at it, twisting, riding the fabric up, digging his fingers into the skin. What the hell?! Seems like the guy on top is trying to suffocate the other one. The man beneath throws his head back... _Oh, fuck_... About to intervene, I take a step towards them, when the suffocating guy beneath shoves his hands down his enemy's trousers, baring his arse - _What???_  And _moans._  

Yeah... gonna come..."

The man on top grinds down and – _Oh, Fuck!_ \- they both growl and they are obviously coming. _Coming!_ Right in front of me, by the wall in a public place.

Mortified, I jump back, and hear a ragged breathing from behind. I whirl around. A guy is leaning against the pillar in the corridor, and he is... _Oh, No_... He has his cock pulled out, jerking himself off to the sight of those two by the wall. Cursing under my breath, I turn on my heel, hastily striding out of the corridor and back to the main area. Someone's hysterical laughter is chasing me, echoing against the walls. _Damn it_. Toilets be damned; who knows _what_ one may find there, if _this_ is going on right here for everyone to see? I think I've had enough.

Moving through the crowd, I no longer see Malfoy on the dance floor. Whatever he is up to, I don't give a fuck, I'm leaving.

A bead of sweat, rolls down my temple and my T-shirt is plastered to my back. I stop and take the glasses off, wiping my face with the hem of my T-shirt. I jump at the feeling of someone's touch at my navel - a finger poking my belly-button. I jerk, tugging the hem down to cover my stomach. My vision is blurry and I can't make out a face before me. I put the glasses back on.

He watches me with his head tilted to the side. The man is gorgeous. I mentally shake myself. I mean... I don't know. He looks not bad for a man, I suppose. Come on, you don't refer to a man as _'gorgeous'_ , do you? You don't notice male body in a way that makes you all hot and bothered, like female does; it’s simply _not done!_ He is dark-haired, athletic and very tall, his chiselled chest outlined beneath a tight T-shirt.

His eyes...

 _His eyes_.

They are brilliant icy-blue under perfect eyebrows, and they are smiling at me. While his lips are not. I feel as though I am floating, falling into the deepest depths. 

"Hi," he says, and I snap out of my stupor. 

"Hi," I reply and swallow thickly.

My heart is thudding. I feel unsafe and exposed and... _Oh, God_ , my limbs are heavy, my breath is harshand, and lust overwhelms me all of a sudden.

"I am Tyler." He holds out his hand. Mesmerised, I reach out and take it. His skin is astonishingly cool for such a hot place, but the thought is drowned in the sparkling sensation over my skin as soon as our fingers touch.

"Harry."

He doesn't release my hand and I don't mind. Instead, he interlaces his fingers through mine, pulling me closer. 

"How are you doing, Harry?" His voice has that hushed, scratchy-whispery quality to it that makes you want to rub your face as though against soft cashmere fabric.

I am so caught up in it that I don't reply, I can't, and what's the point anyway... We both know what this is all about, don't we? Whatever he may ask of me - I've already agreed in advance, and I think he knows it. Because isn't it what I am here for? However hard I might pretend otherwise. In my actual, my real life, I can deny it all I want and narrow everything down to women like any other normal guy should. I'm okay with women; I want women and can find my satisfaction with them just fine. More than fine, for little can compare to a charming lady's presence and the feeling of her body under my palms.

Little _except for..._

_Yeah._

Here, in this shadowy surreal world, I want just a little taste of something that I normally forbid myself to even think about. I am 28, for fuck's sake! Just once, can I allow myself a taste of a _Man_? When the man is right in front of me.

I feel his other hand on my waist, travelling up my back beneath the T-shirt. I shudder. He is taller than I, and I press my face right into his neck, not minding the glasses that cut into the bridge of my nose. I release his hand and tuck my both palms under the back of his T-shirt, touching cool skin, feeling muscles of his lower back as though made of stone. He smells so cool and fresh and rainy, and there's something underneath I can't get enough of. He feels so firm, unyielding under my touch, hard plane of his chest presses flush to mine.

_Oh, God… this is what a Man feels like..._

I am shaking and I _want._

_Want everything._

I am so hard...

I'd let him do anything to me, _anything at all._

As though hearing my thoughts, he cups my face with his hand, tilting my chin up. 

"Why, Harry... Are you nervous?" There is smile in his voice, though his lips don't smile.

"I... no... yes." I don't know how to speak to him or what to say, but I feel I don't even need to.

"Don't be," he whispers in my ear, and I am not... Not anymore. Because I am floating, my mind sweetly heavy, and this is everything I've ever wished for... And there'll be _more_ , I feel his promise.

His hands are so gentle as they tilt my face up, and his eyes... I cannot bear to look in them, I close my eyes and wait for whatever he is about to give, or take.

The first touch of his lips is feathery light, sweet pollen dropping onto my lips. I cease breathing; this is unlike anything I have ever felt before. The second touch is as delicate and I growl in frustration, because I want more, because it's perfect and I don't want it to end, because I've never imagined kissing a man would feel like that. I want to take and _own,_ but somehow I know that it is I who will give myself completely. We both know. His quiet laughter echoes in my head in response to my thoughts:  _'Yes, Harry.'_

He can't possibly laugh or speak because he is kissing me, sweet touch of those lips is a promise of everything... But it doesn't matter, nothing matters, because he breaks the kiss and takes my hand and is leading me through the crowd... and I follow, my head swimming, seeing nothing but him, and he is everything. _Everything._

Darkness is around us, and he is on me, and I don't know where we are or how have we got here, and I don't care.

"Want," I mumble, tugging at his T-shirt, trying to pull him down, "kiss..."

His icy eyes glitter in the moonlight... of course they don't, it's just I'm drunk. Except for I haven't had a single drink. But who cares...

"You are so sweet, Harry," he whispers, pressing me into the wall, diving to kiss me.

I am suddenly aware that I am shirtless, I don't remember when it happened. I forget about it, because his lips crush mine and I am in agony - of desire and lust and longing, as if nothing would ever be enough.

"Touch me," I whimper, I don't know where it comes from, but this is how it should go.

And he is touching me - he knows what I mean, even if I don't know it myself. The slide of his hand on my cock is overwhelming and not enough and makes me cry out. Pleasure is so sharply-sweet, it's almost painful, and I want more, I can't get enough... I am so close, suspended on the precipice, and yet I've never been farther in my life. I won't come until he lets me, until he tells me to, until I die... Until I give him what he wants, _until he takes it._

"Let... let me..." I choke out, my throat burnt to cinders with my ragged breath. I am dying in the sensation of his hand stroking me. I feel his other hand at the base of my throat, travelling up to cup my nape, tilting my head to the side.

_Yes._

This is what he wants. I offer up my neck. I want it, too. And nothing else matters. I feel his tongue, giving a gentle lick, pressing to the pulse point.

_This is it._

I am wild with lust and agony.

"Come, Harry," he whispers, and this is the sweetest sound, I've waited for it my whole life, _"Give it to me..."_

I am screaming myself hoarse, coming in a blinding surge of pleasure-pain, feeling his hot breath on my skin as something sharp grazes my neck.

**

**II.**

_You can coax the cold right out of me_

_Drape me in your warmth_

_The rapture in the dark puts me at ease_

_The blind eye of the storm_

_Let's go for a walk down Easy Street_

_Where you can be reborn_

_And kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_But please don't bite!_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Bite']_

I noticed Potter from afar as soon as I turned the corner. I mean, I didn't know it was Potter. I just noticed a guy hanging back from the streetlights, doing nothing, just standing there. Approaching, I thought all of a sudden that he reminded me of Potter. That was funny. Potter or any thoughts of him have been blissfully absent from my life for several long years now. However, the closer I approached, the more a guy in the street looked like him. He wasn't looking in my direction. Well, let's make him notice me. Passing him, I deliberately almost brushed him with my shoulder, not looking back. If it was indeed Potter, he would follow me.

And the bastard did!

I was aware of his presence creeping in the shadows behind me all the way to the club. When I stopped to shake hands with Nick, I noticed Potter plastered himself to the wall. Idiot. Okay, Potter. I’m going into the gay-club, and you are going to stuff it. I laughed to myself, imagining his shock upon seeing the place. Self-entitled brat! I rather hope I managed to offend his straight sensibilities.

I certainly didn’t expect him to follow me inside. Oh, well. Let him! The more hilarious it will be when he freaks out. 

He is ogling me as I dance, no doubt shocked out of his mind. I put on a show. Fuck you, Potter. What did you expect to find here? Pink Unicorns?

I am having a good time, but once Potter ceases staring and turns away, it’s not such fun any longer. His specky head retreats in the direction of the toilets. I follow him, carefully navigating the crowd to keep out his line of sight. What the bastard is up to? Why isn’t he leaving? It’s time for him to freak out and fuck off.

I hide in the shadow of a pillar in the corridor, dying of silent laughter as Potter watches a couple of blokes frotting frantically against the wall. No doubt he thinks his help is needed. Right behind him, I see a guy is wanking, whom Potter is not aware of. The whole thing is so hilarious that I double over, choking on my breath, pressing both palms to my mouth not to give myself away. Judging by the sounds they make, the blokes are coming together, and Potter bolts out. Honestly, what an idiot. No doubt he thought the one was killing the other or something, and his Saviour-instinct kicked in. Potter turns, almost bumping into the wanking guy and this is too much, _I can’t!_ I burst out with laughter, the sound resonating along the corridor. Thankfully, Potter already escapes; I see his retreating back. I wipe the tears out of my eyes, looking at the black smudges of eyeliner on my fingers; well, this was worth it. I should put the memory into a Pensieve, preserving it for long and gloomy winter evenings.

When I emerge to the main area, I think Potter is already gone, for he looked utterly fed up. I order a drink at the bar and sit back, observing people around. That is when I see him.

_Tyler._

He is moving - gliding – through the crowd. He is gorgeous, he stands out, he draws eyes. Following his movements, I sip my drink. Although I am in no danger, I shiver.

I remember the first time I met him about a year ago. That was when he Pulled me. I remember how it felt: the irresistible deadly force of his Allure. A promise of bliss and all-encompassing hunger. Hunger for him, for his body, for his touch. When he kissed me… it was indescribable. I’d never felt anything like that before, or since. But before I didn’t know that he was fake, hollow and dead, rotten bastard. The beast, preying upon naïve and ignorant us. And since - I never sought that feeling again, knowing it to be unachievable; it is nothing more than an illusion of Vampire Allure.

Honestly, I don’t know how did I manage to get out of his clutches. By the time he led me outside, I was obedient as a lamb. He was whispering what a sweet boy I was and how deliciously I smell, and for how long he wanted to taste me. I was in heaven, and he was kissing me, and he licked my neck… I don’t know, maybe he was in a hurry or lost his control, but when he pressed me into the wall, roughly grabbing my neck, I suddenly snapped out of the fog. My whole being was screaming _Danger!_ I tried to throw him off, but he already bared his incisors. The sight of them paralysed me with shock and I must have frozen and stopped kicking, because he released his grip to tilt my head to the side and bare my neck. That is when I could strike. With a burst of wandless magic that exploded from my fingertips I threw him off hard against the ground, hitting him with a Stunning Spell on top for good measure. My whole body was shaking. I dragged him further in the shadows and cast a Full Body-Bind with my wand, for my wandless magic ceased to obey me. When I cast Ennervate, he looked at me with his brilliant eyes and I turned away to face the wall, afraid that he would charm me again.

He told me he didn’t know I was magical, otherwise he wouldn’t have approached. He preferred not to leave any trace. Once bitten, Magical folk turn into Vampires, while Muggles simply die when life is sucked out of them. On the Pull he frequented Muggle clubs and never Magical. I asked him how in hell did he not know _me_? I mean, everyone in Wizarding world knows _Draco freaking Malfoy._ That’s why I live among Muggles. I pretend being a Muggle and it works for me. I have a Muggle job that I actually like and am good at; I have Muggle friends; I can do whatever I want and no one gives a fuck – I am free!  

He said he had recently moved to England from Australia, well past the war and all that stuff. It figures. I told him to stay away from me and I wouldn’t hex his dick off. He agreed. Vampires, in spite of everything, are not that magically powerful.

I was so badly shaken that I couldn’t go out after that for a long time. I have seen him only twice here since then. Both times he greeted me cheerfully, as though he hadn’t tried to suck my fucking blood out. I warned him either to behave or fuck off, unless he wants me to summon the Aurors. I may live in a Muggle world, but I won’t hesitate to hand him down if need be. I don’t want to find one of the people I know here dead or missing just because the fucker can’t control his beastly nature. He cheerfully assured me that he’s not on the Pull, just hanging out, nothing to worry about. I didn’t believe him and spent the whole evening watching him, feeling uneasy. Next day there were no reports of people missing or dead around the club. He kept his word.

The bartender taps me on the shoulder from behind and I turn. He asks if I want anything, and I order another drink. Sipping it, I turn back… and my heart stops: Tyler takes Potter’s hand, pulling him closer. He whispers something into his ear, and Potter already has that dreamy smile on his face. Leaning into Tyler, he wraps his arms around Tyler's back and presses his face into his neck.

_Oh, fucking fucking fuck!_

Tyler, son of a bitch… And underneath all that I am really astonished. Because however irresistible Tyler might be, he wouldn’t have been able to Pull Potter if Potter were completely and utterly straight. This is something to think about later.

I slide down off my stool. I mean, this is Potter… but I can’t just fucking sit back and watch as he’s being sucked out by a Vampire. Now that I’m standing, I can no longer see over the crowd. I can make out only Tyler’s head above the others, he’s extraordinary tall. I push my way through the crowd. Someone in front of me moves, and now I see Tyler cradles Potter’s head, leaning down to kiss him. _Shit._ Someone shoves me to the side, and a big group of people is moving right at me in the direction of the dance floor. When I’m done struggling through them, Tyler and Potter are nowhere to be seen. _Fuck_.

Now what? My heart is racing. There are two exits at the opposite sides of the club, and I am standing to the nearest one. I run, bumping into people in the doorway, earning obscenities in my direction. I dash out on the street and look around. This is the main entrance which I came here by. It is brightly lit and there are people at the pavement. Either Tyler has Apparated them away, or they are by the back entrance in the dark alleyway where he’d once dragged me. I am sure they are not there. I don’t think Tyler is that stupid. I run for my life anyway: around the club, to where it’s dark and quiet and creepy.

Tyler is _that_ stupid!

I see his back: he looms over Potter, pressing him into the wall, and his right arm and shoulder are moving as though he’s giving Potter a handjob.

Hoping I am not too late, I draw my wand. Potter starts screaming, when I aim at Tyler’s back, hitting him with a violent Stunner.

**

**III.**

_I_ _'m pulling on your heart to push my luck_

 _'Cause who's got_ _any time for growing up?_

_Kiss me on the mouth_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Bite']_

I am waking up gradually, as though surfacing out of the water. My head hurts and I feel disoriented. My vision is blurry but I know enough to tell I am not home. I have no idea where I am, or how have I got here. I reach to the bedside drawer, rummaging carefully over its surface. Ah, here they are. I put my glasses on and things come into focus. 

The room is small and tidy, softly lit by a bedside lamp. I lie in a double bed. There is a bedside drawer and a wardrobe in the far corner. I see my clothes folded neatly and stacked into the pile in the armchair by the window, my wand on top of; my trainers are on the carpet under the armchair. I peer under the blanket: I am in my pants, thank Merlin. I try to remember the previous night - or day - and draw blank, as though something is blocking my memory. Violent headache blooms behind my eyes.

It is dark outside the window. I get out of bed. My whole body hurts as though after exertion, and I am in the desperate need of a loo. Cautiously I peer through the door to the left of the entrance and see a bathroom, thank Merlin. I piss and wash my hands, looking at myself in the mirror. There is a wide stripe of a Muggle medicine plaster at the left side of my neck. I don't remember putting it there. I never use it, preferring small healing charms for the scratches and thin cuts. I touch the place with my fingers and it stings badly.

And I _remember_.

 _Tyler._  

I go cold, skin of my forearms covering with goosebumps. Is this where I am? Tyler's home? Heart racing, I dash back to the room. My eyes catch the pile of my clothes in the armchair. _No._ Whoever has put me here, if they wished me harm they wouldn't have left me my wand. I dress quickly and lace my trainers. With the wand in my hand I quietly open the door, peering outside.

There is no hallway or anything, and I step directly into what looks like a vast living-area, dimly lit with a soft bluish light. There's another door next to mine. The source of the light is a large TV-screen high up on the wall, showing ocean views; otherwise the room is in shadows. I walk forward and stop near the large sofa facing the screen. Everything is quiet, except for a voice from TV, speaking at the lowest volume, barely audible. I take a few steps around the sofa and suddenly trip over something, falling face forward on the carpet. There is a growl, and to my horror I realise that I am lying across someone's legs. I scramble on my feet as the lights flare on and stare down at very ruffled, very sleepy Malfoy, who is sitting on the floor leaning with his back against the sofa. There's a wand in his hand, pointed directly at me. My wand, however, simply hangs down from my fingers.

"Potter." He lowers his wand, putting it down on the carpet.

"Malfoy."

He is not wearing eyeliner, his bare feet are long and pale under the black pyjama bottoms, and in a plain grey T-shirt he looks so domestic that I want to laugh. He is quite thin, and there's nothing in him from that fancy intimidating persona I saw in the club; he's just - Malfoy.

"Why are you creeping around me in the dark?" He snaps.

"No... I mean... what am I doing here? It's your place, right?"

"It's my flat," he says, "I'd brought you here because I didn't have a better idea after extricating you from Tyler's clutches."

 _Oh_. My hand moves up to touch the plaster on my neck.

"Do you know him?"

"Yes," he says, and it's obvious that he doesn't mean a mere acquaintance. He _knows_ Tyler. I shiver. 

"Oh, fuck.... this is... thank you, Malfoy... thank you."

"You passed out. I couldn't just leave you lying there, right?" He shrugs.

"The cut..." I touch my neck again. "Did he?.."

"No." He shakes his head. "It's just a scratch. If he did, believe me, you would have felt rather different by now." He picks his wand and stands up. He is a bit taller than I, barely an inch. "I'd cleaned the cut and put some stuff on it, so it wouldn't get infected." He heads to the open doorway. I follow.

"What?" He turns around. "You are gaping, Potter. I'm a doctor, it's perfectly okay."

"A Healer?" I ask dumbly. This night is full of surprises, to say the least.

"A _doctor._ A Muggle doctor," he says, retreating through the doorway.

"What?" I mean, really...

I enter the kitchen. Malfoy is fumbling with a coffee-machine.

"Honestly, Potter." He rolls his eyes. "Are you sure Tyler hadn't sucked your brains out?"

I sit at the large round table. "Speaking of Tyler... Had he escaped?" I ask. I feel nauseated at the thought of Tyler wandering freely around.

"No, I summoned the Aurors. I Stunned him and dragged you out from..." He pauses, turning to give me a look. "From under his body."

 _Oh, God_ , I feel blush creeping up my neck.

"Before Apparating us away, I had triggered the Alarm Spell and summoned the Aurors.”

"But..." I begin.

"This is all I was able to do. He'd already had his incisors fully grown and bared, poised to bite and with a bit of your blood on them when I stunned him, so... maybe it would be enough to start investigation or something. I didn't want to involve myself with the Aurors, _sorry_ , Potter." He rolls his eyes theatrically. "And neither do you, I assume."

I am wildly embarrassed, but he is right. I am not ready to undergo any official investigation involving Aurors and me in a gay club. I clear my throat.

"What time is it?" I ask for something to say. I am not ready to discuss this thing with anyone, let alone Malfoy. All this is so cringy and bewildering; I don't even know where to begin.

"A half past four." He indicates with his head at the clock on the wall above the fridge. "Coffee?"

"Er... yeah... thanks."

Draco Malfoy is brewing me coffee in his Muggle coffee machine in his kitchen at a half past four in the morning. When has it even become my life? The moment he saved me from a Vampire, I reckon.

"No problem," he says, pressing the button, and the machine starts buzzing. With his back to me, he retrieves two mugs from the cupboard. His T-shirt rides up, revealing pale skin of his lower back, and I look away. Silence hangs between us, making me more and more awkward with every passing second.

I stand up, walking to the fridge, and examine my neck in its mirror door. "Why didn't you use the spells?" I ask for nothing better to say, trying to take the plaster off.

"Why did you follow me to the club?"

"What?" I turn to him. He is leaning forward on his palms against the counter, looking at me sideways.

"Why did you follow me to the club?" He repeats calmly, not changing his tone.

"I... don't want to discuss it."

"I don't want to discuss it." He shrugs.

I turn back to the mirror, tugging at the plaster, tearing it off my skin. It freaking stings badly and I hiss.

"What _the fuck_ are you doing, Potter?!" He is by my side in an instant. "For fuck's sake!"

I gape at the place where the plaster has just been. Just a scratch, he said. It's not a scratch, it's a fucking _wound_ \- narrow but deep, and the flesh is showing where the edges of the skin gape open. The sight is nauseating and it freaking stings insanely, blood already gathering at the edges, droplets trickling down my neck.

"Fuck!" I blurt, "a scratch you said!"

"I meant he didn't cut the vein, you moron. For a Vampire's bite it's a scratch. Don't touch!" He barks when I raise my hand. He moves to the last cupboard on the wall. "Sit the fuck down."

I sit at the table, watching him retrieve a large box. He approaches me, putting it down on the table and opening the lid. It is full of ordinarily looking medicine stuff: plasters, bandages, cotton pads, scissors and numerous glass bottles and small jars. He takes the chair, moving it very close to mine and sits down. He opens a bottle and pours some strongly smelling liquid onto the cotton pad. I look at his hands: slender fingers are long and look strong and beautiful and not at all delicate. His neatly trimmed short nails are clean and polished.

"Don't move," he says.

And I can't move, I freeze, because he grips my jaw, turning it to the side and  leans into me, examining my neck. 

"I am going to apply antiseptic and it's going to sting," he says clinically, touching the edges of the wound with a cotton pad. It stings, it fucking _stings_ so that I growl. 

"Shhh," he says, and blows gently, soothing the skin, "it's okay... a little more..."

My eyes dart to his face sideways, because... I feel out of my depth, I mean...it's _Malfoy!_

"Stay still." He releases my jaw. I turn my face to follow his movement. "I said stay still!" He grips my jaw again, turning my face to the side, "Merlin, Potter. You are what? Three?"

"Sorry," I utter.

He leans into me again, holding something in his hands. "I am going to apply a medicine directly into the wound and it's going to hurt. Deep breath."

I inhale deeply while he pours something into the cut, and... "Fuck!" I breathe out shakily, gripping the table.

"You are doing well. We are almost done. Breathe."

I breathe, and he pours again, and it _hurts_ , and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry out. Gentle puff of his breath grazes my skin.

"Alright. I'm going to bandage it. _Don’t move._ "

I exhale carefully, but otherwise stay still. The pain is receding. He leans in, putting something soft on the wound and then starts to stroke it along the neck with his fingers, spreading it out. "I’ve been going to explain what to do with the wound," he murmurs, I feel his breath at the side of my face, "and what _not_ to do, Potter... just about a moment before you'd fucked everything up."

"Sorry," I say again, "I... thank you, Malfoy."

He is wrapping something soft around my neck with the gentle deft fingers and doesn't reply. His thigh is pressed to mine, his body touches my chest each time as he leans in to wind the bandage around my neck. The smell of his perfume, though not that strong, is still _there_. I inhale it carefully, and it's divine, and my whole body is aware of him.

"Okay," he says, withdrawing, "here you go."

Which I instantly regret, because there's something soothing, relaxing in his manner and soft touch, something that makes me feel safe and cared for. Malfoy has just taken care of me. This is surreal.

"Why did you do it?" I ask.

He stops rummaging in the box and throws me an odd look. Then something shuts down in his expression. "Because I'm a doctor, and it's my _duty_. Even if a patient is as dumb as a brick wall."

"No... it's not... thanks for healing it… but I mean..."

"What?"

I feel like I shouldn't say that, but once I've begun I am never able to shut up, it was always my problem. "I mean... in the club..."

"What? Why didn't I let the Vampire eat you alive?"

I nod dumbly, _shit,_ why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut?

"Why, to fulfil my Life Debt, _of course!"_  He wiggles his eyebrows at me, but something's off in his tone. "Why else indeed?"

"Life Debt?" 

"Oh, fuck you, Potter!" He throws his palms in the air. "I don't know why... there's no reason; I wasn't hinking much at all, okay? Once I saw Tyler groping you."

"You... you'd been there, too... with him... I mean..." Understanding dawns on me in its ugliness.

"Yes... so I know how it goes."

My blood runs cold. "How? How did you manage to escape?" 

How do you know I did?" He bares his teeth.

I stare at him. "I don't."

He rolls his eyes again. "Relax, Potter... He'd lost his control, I suppose, and hadn't taken care of my pleasure beforehand, unlike he did about yours." He gives me a look, and my face is burning.

Oh, God, it dawns on me that Malfoy had actually witnessed the whole thing between me and Tyler, handjob including. Furthermore, he extricated my unconscious body from beneath Tyler... I mean, he saw my dick, right?

"I came to my senses and managed to wandlessly Stun him," he continues, "I was lucky indeed." Taking the box, he stands up and carries it back to the cupboard.

I stand up, too, going to the fridge to look at my neck in the mirror. It is bandaged neatly around with a beige elastic band that holds the dressing of the wound in place.

"You should visit a Healer tomorrow," Malfoy says, pouring coffee into the mugs, "otherwise, find a Muggle doctor. You shouldn't touch it, but the wound needs daily cleaning and redressing." He carries the mugs to the table and retrieves a can of biscuits.

"Thank you, Malfoy," I say, watching him in the mirror.

He gestures at the table. "Come on."

I sit opposite him, taking the mug. "What kind of doctor you are?"

"I specialise in paediatrics," he says, sipping his coffee.

What?

"You mean... children?"

Here I sit, drinking coffee with Draco Malfoy – a Vampire Slayer Gay Children's Doctor.

"Yes. How hard is it for you to believe?"

"That's... unexpected," I say lamely.

"Actually, my shift begins in two hours." He yawns. "And I haven't slept all night."

"Sitting on the floor with your wand drawn, why?"

"Really, Potter? How would you feel about a stranger in your home?"

"You thought I... you thought Tyler had turned me..."

"No, I didn't," he snaps, "are you taking me for an idiot? The first thing I'd done after Apparating you here was checking the wound before tending to it. I've already told you that luckily for you he hadn't punctured the vein, were you listening? Which means he didn't drink your blood directly, which means he hadn't inserted his Vampire essence into your bloodstream, which means you are in no danger of turning into a Vampire any time soon. Even if you were, even if he did - there are means, there are potions, which if applied during the first 24 hours would prevent you from turning. If I thought even for a second there was the tiniest chance you might turn, I would have handed you down to St.Mungo's, thank you very much, your straight agenda notwithstanding."

"How do you know all this?" I ask, letting the agenda-pun slide, "I mean, you are a Muggle doctor."

"How do you think I know all this?"

Honestly, I have no idea. "I don't know."

Looking down into his mug, he lets out a breath and takes a sip of coffee, then looks back at me.

"Okay, just to prevent all your stupid questios in advance... I aimed to become a Healer," he says, looking me in the eyes, "after the war, after the trials... I had that idea... you know, of helping people. Maybe to prove myself not to be totally worthless... anyway...I mean, I was good at potions and overall interested in that field. I tried to educate myself. During my house-arrest, I read everything that could possibly relate to that matter. I wanted to enter the training, once I was free to go. But... - they wouldn't have me. None of them."

"St.Mungo's, you mean?"

"Yes, St.Mungo's. And also France, or Belgium, or Germany, or Switzerland. There was my record after the trials, they had tied it to my magical signature. It's permanent. So, none of main medical institutions will ever accept me. And it makes sense I suppose."

"So that’s why… you hadn't used the healing spells on my wound,” I say, “you don’t know them.”

“I can cast some simple stuff, like, for scratches or light burns and such. But no, not anything serious. Not enough for your wound.”

“But you could... move to America? Surely they..."

"I don't know... maybe. But at that point I'd ceased to give a fuck. I left for Muggle world and entered medical studies. I didn't expect to end up in paediatrics, but somehow it had stuck with me... and you know - eventually it had worked out. Everything."

"Don't you ever think of..."

"What? Returning?” His eyebrows shoot upwards. “No, thank you very much. I'm done with the Wizarding world."

"But..."

"What, Potter?" He snaps. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Don't give me that look! I don't need anyone's pity. I am content with my life."

"I don't..."

"Yes, you do. You fucking do! But you can stuff it. Just because it was the second-best choice, it doesn't mean I'm not alright. I wouldn't change a thing. I love my job and I'm good at it. I worked hard to have what I have now. I have my friends, I'm happy with my life, I'm free of prejudice that would pursue me in the Wizarding world. I would have to run 10 times faster just to remain in place and still it wouldn't be enough to be considered 'worthy'. I know, I am aware of what I did in the past and of its consequences… but I’d got tired of struggling against my past ten years ago at the point of being rejected by the whole society, and if I ever was going to make anything of my life, I needed another, entirely different chance, and I grasped it with both hands at the first opportunity. I can do whatever I want, not giving a fuck about anyone's opinion, and Muggles don't treat me like a scum by my name alone. I actually do something worthy on daily basis. Helping children is a very gratifying job, you know. Among all this, being able to openly use magic is a ridiculously insignificant detail, believe me. I use it all the same when I need it, I just don't parade it around."

I stare at him. "Malfoy..."

"So, don't you dare, Potter, don't you fucking dare give me that pitying look." His face is flushed, vein pulsing at the base of his neck. This is entirely new, different Malfoy.

"I'm not saying anything." I raise my palms in defence. "Really, calm down, Malfoy. I get it... I'm sorry, I... all you've done today is saving my life and helping me; all I've done is behaving like a dick, saying stupid things. I'm sorry."

"Okay," he says. Awkwardness falls between us as we sit, crunching at our biscuits. But this is a new kind of awkwardness - the novelty of understanding. It feels shy and kind and friendly.

"Come on," he says suddenly, looking up at me, "do tell me your secret. I won't tell anyone." Mischievous smile tugs at his lips, his eyes full of mirth.

"What?"

"Your big gay secret."

"I don't..." Oh, fuck, the bastard isn't giving me rest, is he?

"I mean, I already know, but I'd like to hear you saying it out loud." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Come on, Potter! Don't you even think I'm going to let it slide, after everything I've told you about myself." He bites at his lower lip and pouts theatrically. The bastard.

"Okay. Okay!" I throw my palms up in desperation. "I am attracted to men. As well as to women."

"Aaand?" He leans forward, comically widening his eyes. Honestly, he's such a character... I had no idea.

"And this is it. End of story."

"No, no, no, Potter. Give me drama, give me details of your sexual awakening!"

He is hilarious and I laugh out loud. I realise that somehow it's not embarrassing or difficult to speak to him about these things. Because he's gay, I suppose, and because he already knows. And I sort of want to talk about it to someone who'd understand; who wouldn't judge or laugh or ask me if I'm sure; just lay everything plain on the table, like no big deal."

"Well... I've known it for some time..." I elaborate, "for a long time, actually. But never really admitted it to myself. Until recently... I dated a girl, and we broke up last month, and... I don't know... I sort of allowed myself to think about those things. I searched the internet for places for gay people, you know, LGBT people, 'cause I don't think I'm actually gay - like 'real' gay - I like women, too, a lot. So I'd found that club 'Shades of a Rainbow' and hovered outside, anxious to enter - for, like, a week? And when I spotted you, it was an excuse of sorts, to finally do it." I look down at my hands, but I'm not shy or anything. It's actually easy. It just helps me to gather my thoughts. I look up. Wide-eyed, Malfoy props his chin on his hand, listening.

"So you had come there for a piece of a man, eh?" He grins and I grin back.

"Yeah... sort of... you saw yesterday, I bit off more than I could swallow."

He laughs, and I join, and it feels good. I've never spoken to anyone about this, and only now, having spilled everything, I realise how much I needed it. I never imagined I'd be confessing to Malfoy of all people. 

"What do you do for a living?" He asks out of nowhere. "Not the Aurors, I assume."

"You assume?"

"If your stalking skills are anything to go by... honestly, Potter, did you think I wouldn't notice you creeping after me on the street?"

Damn it. I am an idiot. No doubt he'd had a lot of fun at my expense.

"Quidditch."

"What?"

"I play Quidditch. That's what I do for a living," I say, "I'm on my vacation until the end of August."

"Oh, okay," he says, "good choice. It makes sense, I suppose."

"Why, Malfoy... is it a compliment?"

"You wish." He grins. Downing the remnants of his coffee, he stands up and carries his mug to the sink.

"Okay, Potter, however delightful your company is, you should go. I have to be at work in an hour."

"But it's Sunday," I say, suddenly not at all eager to leave.

"Lucky you, but my shift awaits me, and I have to take a shower... so, unless you'd like to join me..." His eyes widen in comical alarm. "You should go home." 

"Oh... fuck you!" I say half-heartedly and step closer to him, offering my hand, "well, thank you for - everything."

He grips my hand in a firm, strong handshake. "Okay, Potter," he says with a little smile.

Turning on the spot in a swirl of my Disapparition, his words "See you around," reach my ears. I don't have a chance to reply, for I am already landing in my living-room.

**

**IV.**

_Kiss me on the mouth_

_Free_

_Kiss me on the mouth_

_Free_

_Kiss, kiss me on the mouth_

_and set me free_

_Kiss me on the mouth_

_and set me free_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Bite']_

I don't go to a Healer. No doubt they'd recognise the Vampire cut straight away at St.Mungo's. I don't want to explain, I just - don't.

I find a Muggle doctor. _Abigail_ , the badge at her chest reads. She is nice and friendly and her hands are gentle as she tends to my wound. But all I can think of is - _Malfoy._

Friday night. I approach the _'Shades of a Rainbow'_ with anxious anticipation. Once inside, I look around. Making my way to the bar, I tell myself I'm here for fun and drink and the atmosphere, maybe I’ll even manage to hook up with someone. But as I grow restless, glancing every now and then over my shoulder, I finally admit to myself that I am here for Malfoy.

He is not at the bar; he's not on the dance floor; he's not among the crowd, I've already checked thrice. I even visited toilets, walking all the way down _the corridor._  It occured to me: maybe he's there, writhing against the wall under someone's touch? Well... in that case, I have no business to seek him at all, do I? There is only one couple there by the wall, I move past them slower than I should, glancing at them discreetly. No, definitely not. One bloke is black, and the other one is bulky and bearded. I am relieved. He isn't in the toilets. He is not in the main area - I check the dance floor, the bar, the crowd again. He is not here. I even ask the ponytail guy - has he seen Draco? He hasn't, he says.

I'm standing by the entrance like an idiot, pretending just to hang out, not giving a fuck. When a man approaches me, touching my elbow, asking if he could buy me a drink, I mumble: "Sorry, I should go."

I come home barely past midnight and go to bed wildly frustrated.

**

Saturday night. When I enter the club, I notice him at the bar straight away. My heart speeds up, honestly, I'm like a teenager. I approach, trying to appear casual with all my might. He's sitting with his back to me, not aware of me yet.

"Hi!" I tap him on the shoulder.

He turns, his eyes widen. "Hello, Potter."

I stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say next.

"Come here," he says, shuffling his stool to the side. There is no empty seat, so I just step closer to stand between his knees, and this is a very dangerous position indeed, for his thighs are around me. I wave at the bartender and turn back to Malfoy. 

"How's your neck?" He asks, poking at my jaw with his forefinger and turning my face to the side. It's nothing, nothing at all, but heat floods me at this little touch.

"It's fine, almost healed," I say; there's just a narrow plaster instead of a bandage now.

He studies it with his brow furrowed. "Alright, I think I should take a look at it tonight. Sometime later. If you don't mind."

"I... don't mind," I manage.

I don't know what does it mean or what he's implying, but the prospect of _'later'_ with him makes me hot and cold. He is not wearing makeup tonight, and his clothes are quite ordinary I'd say: dark-blue jeans and a blue checkered shirt. I am relieved. He looks more like a domestic version of Malfoy and less like that fancy unapproachable persona I first saw. I mean, he looked dashing, but I feel easier around _this_ Malfoy. His perfume, however, though not that loud, is the same: that sandalwood and something citrusy and flowery, soft and scratchy, cool and warm - all at once.

"I like your perfume," I blurt, "what is it?"

"Why, Potter..." His eyebrows shoot upwards. "Are you flirting?"

"No!.. I... just asked about your perfume."

 _Oh, Merlin_ , I'm such an idiot.

"My perfume, I see..." He looks me in the face, obviously finding me very amusing. "And here I've thought you were actually flirting..."

"You know what?" I try to sound casual and funny and nonchalant - unsuccessfully. I am flustered and embarrassed and as shy as a schoolboy. "Forget it, just... drop it-"

"Nick told me you were looking for me yesterday," he cuts me off, "I was sleeping, after the shift. Was too exhausted to go out."

"I..." I seem to have a difficulty to express myself eloquently around him.

"You were, weren't you?" His eyes are searching my face.

"What?"

"Looking for me. Weren't you?"

"I... yes, maybe..."

He leans in. " _Montale,"_ he whispers in my ear, " _Sandal Sliver."_

"What?" I breathe out.

His words don't make sense but I hardly care, afraid to move, because his hand is at the small of my back, and I don't want to dislodge it.

"My perfume. This is what it is," he whispers hotly straight into my ear, and I desperately try to breath.

"It's nice. I like it," I say.

"I think you _are_ flirting, Potter."

"Er... maybe... a bit."

"Oh, _thank God!_ " He exclaims cheerfully and suddenly slides off the barstool, gripping my hand. I have no idea what's going on. "Come _on_ , then!" He pulls me away from the bar, and I have nothing left to do but follow.

"What? Where?" I shout at his back.

"Why, dance, of course!" He replies over his shoulder.

"Wait!" I stop, tugging at his hand.

"What?" He peers me in the face. Flustered and ruffled, he's adorable; I'd kiss him right here if I had the guts.

"I don't dance," I say.

"Me neither!" He bounces up and down to the music. "Come on!"

And I surrender, letting him lead me on the dance floor. Half- bouncing, half-swaying to the beat, he puts his hands on my hips. I grip him by the forearms, mirroring his movements. And this is not at all difficult; it is easy and brilliant and liberating. This is not about dancing at all, this is about us: together, right here in this moment, moving to the rhythm of each other's heartbeat. His eyes catch mine and he winks, pulling me closer, and my hands squeeze his waist. I am in the middle of a gay-club in Muggle London, dancing with Draco Malfoy as if no one's watching, and no one cares, and I love it; this is what I needed all along _._ I relax and let go.

When he leads me back to the bar, I tug at his hand, making him stop and turn to me. 

"What?"

His face is flushed and his hair is ruffled, falling across his eyebrow. Small smile plays on his lips, and I can't contain myself any longer. In one swift motion, I launch forward, winding my arm around his neck, diving to kiss him. Uttering a surprised huff, he immediately opens his lips, kissing back, and I feel giddy with his response, I should have done it long ago. Abruptly he breaks the kiss, leaning back to look at me, his brow furrowed. 

"Potter?"

There is question in his voice, and my only answer is 'yes'. To all of it.

"Malfoy." I grin at him.

Under the flashing lights he is golden and glowing. He is gorgeous, and I pull him into another kiss. He grips me by the shoulders, responding eagerly with his whole body, sliding his tongue into my mouth. People are moving around us, but we don't care. Because this is perfect and hot and wild, I've never kissed like this before. Is it a _Man_? Is it _Malfoy_? Probably both. He is nothing like Tyler. He is warm and human and alive. I squeeze him in my arms, relishing the feeling of his firm body, his heartbeat against my chest, and everything I feel is real and have nothing to do with fake perfection of Vampire Pull. Everything is Malfoy and I, and nothing else is needed. I know he feels the same.

**

He pulls me through the door into his flat. We both stop. I don't know where this awkwardness suddenly comes from, but I still, uncertain.

We walked to his flat all the way back from the club. I was gripping him around the waist, his arm resting over my shoulders, we pressed our heads together. There was this perfect moment between us, when words were not needed. In the middle of the street he stopped abruptly, turning to me.

"You'll be the death of me, Potter," he said, shaking his head, and I didn't know was he mocking or serious, because it sounded both.

He cupped my face in his palms, and when his lips touched mine, a lightning ripped the darkness, skies exploding with thunder. Fat raindrops were sliding down our faces, mingling with his taste on my tongue. His shirt was plastered to his back, and I wanted to tuck my hands beneath the fabric, seeking his warmth, and so I did, tugging it out of the belt of his jeans. 

"Potter... you are..." He exhaled into my mouth.

"Harry," I breathed back.

"You are Harry," he agreed.

It was perfect and it was magic - standing pressed into each other under the pouring rain – I wanted it to never end.

Now my heart is thudding, and I don't know what to do next.

He closes the door, the sound loud in the dark. The light flicks on, and he steps closer, taking my hand. His wet hair is smoothed back from his forehead.

"Hey," he says softly, his eyes searching my face, "do you even want _this?_ "

Of course I do. Of course I want this; this is all I could think about for the past week.

"Yes... I do. I do."

There is this line that I am about to cross, the point of no return on this path of self-discovery, and it is terrifying, but I am going to do it anyway; I can’t not to.

"Come on." He tugs at my hand. "Let's take a look at your neck."

We head to the kitchen.

He draws his wand, casting a drying spell on us both. Then comes close, turning my head to the side under the bright kitchen lamp, and tears the plaster carefully off.

"Okay... this is going just fine,” he murmurs, trailing the place with his fingertip, “the plaster is no longer needed. This might scar a bit, but it's nothing a Healer wouldn't deal with."

His voice is so soft and soothing, wrapping me in warmth and safety; I begin to relax. He takes my jaw, turning my face to him, and leans in to kiss me. I grip him firmly around the waist, pressing my hips to his.

“Coffee? Tea? Wine?” He whispers over my lips. "What do you want?"

I shake my head. "I... everything," I exhale, "I want you to do _everything."_

**

_Everything._

My breath catches.

I would do anything he asked me to.

I pull him by the hand, leading him out of the kitchen through the living-area to my bedroom, flicking the soft light on.

"Everything?" I turn to him. I just want to hear him saying it again.

Gripping me around the waist, he turns us around and presses me into the door. Pinning my hands above my head, he ducks his face, and I feel hot slide of his tongue under my jaw. I arch, bucking my hips to meet him, and he pushes his thigh between my legs. He is not a blushing maiden; I even think I’d rather prefer him doing  _everything_ to me.

"Yes, I want you to do everything..."

Apparently it's no easy for him to utter those words. My heart is thudding and my breath is shallow.

"And... I want you to… - _take_ me," he says into my neck, and my heart stops.

I know what he wants, I knew it from the beginning, but hearing him saying it like this is doing something to me. Gryffindors. To hell with subtleties. Jump off the cliff. Straight to the matter.

"To take you," I repeat.

"Yes... I've never... I don't know how..." He strives to keep his voice even, but it is shaking.

"I know," I say, hooking my leg around his arse, "I know how. Release me."

I want to make it so good for him that he'd forget his own name. He releases my hands and I grip his face, trailing my lips over his jaw. Faint stubble of his chin scrapes my skin. His hips press me into the door, and he moves, frotting shamelessly against me, as his fingers are already unbuckling my belt. I take the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head, and he raises his arms to let me. Dropping the T-shirt on the floor, I press my palms into his armpits, sliding them down, feeling the hard ridges of his ribs under my touch. He is gorgeous: all shaped muscles and lean frame of a Quidditch player. And he is mine to take. I splay my palms over his chest, gliding them over the shoulders and down his arms and over his back. He is holding his breath. I lean forward, touching the base of his neck with my lips, pressing my tongue into the hollow of his throat, feeling the wild beating of his pulse there.

“I want…” he whispers, “I want you.”

And something just _snaps_ in me. I push myself off the door, walking him backwards, until his legs hit the edge of the bed. I push him by the shoulders and he lands back on his arse. He props himself on the elbows, staring up at me wide-eyed, as I wrench at the buttons of my shirt. _Off._ I bend down, jerkily tugging his trainers and socks off his feet. I loom over him, wrenching at his belt. It gives and I open the flies of his jeans, tugging them roughly down, and he helps me, lifting his arse off the bed. _Off._ He is in the tight black cotton boxers, his erection obscenely straining the fabric forward. His lean muscled legs are pale, dusted with the coarse black hairs. Holding the eye contact, I stand up and undo my belt. He says nothing, his eyes travelling up and down my body.

“Like what you see?” I smirk, throwing off my boots, pulling my trousers and pants down, freeing my legs. _Off._

“Yeah… come here." He stares at my hard cock.

“Make me!” I say archly. I don’t know where it comes from, but Potter makes me feel like a game tug-of-war.

Surprised, he stills for a second. But only for a second. His reaction is excellent: one swift motion he jumps on his feet, gripping me around the waist, throwing us both at the bed. He lands on top of me, straddling my thighs, and pins my wrists above my head. All this took him less than a blink of an eye. I am impressed.

“Are you a Seeker?” I arch beneath him, trying to buck my hips up to touch his stomach with the tip of my cock. To no avail. Holding me firmly in place, he deliberately arches his body up and away from my touch. Honestly, the man is a piece of work.

“Yes." He bends down, giving my neck a lick, then sits back, releasing my hands. He looks down at my dick that is jutting obscenely upwards and brings his fingers to my groin, carding them through my pubic hair, and then takes my cock in his hand. He squeezes it, circling the tip with his thumb, and then slowly starts to stroke it. 

I let out a breath. “Take your pants off.”

He releases my cock and shuffles backwards, standing up, pulling the boxers down. I stare at his cock. It is thick, thicker than mine; I want to taste it.

“Lie down,” I say, “on your back.” He obeys.

I want his skin, all of it. I lie on top of him, pressing myself to his body, rubbing against him, and he growls, sliding his palms down my back to cup my arse, his hands squeezing and kneading and stroking.

“You are so…” he breathes.

“What?”

“You are so… _masculine_ …” He grips my shoulders, latching his lips to my neck.

I laugh. “Well spotted.”

“I mean… _firm… hard._ ” I feel his lips move as he speaks against my neck. “I always wanted… to touch a man.”

“Touch me all you want." I nudge his face up. He opens his mouth, our tongues meeting, mingling and sliding against each other. I kiss his jaw and neck and chest, trailing my lips down to where his cock is jutting out of thick black hair. I nuzzle my way through it, inhaling the musky scent of his arousal. Rising on my elbows, I take his cock by the base and swallow it down. His hips jerk as he moans. I bob my head up and down, pressing my tongue to the underside.

“ _Oh my…”,_ he utters, gripping my hair.

He tries to thrust into my mouth, and I withdraw. “No, no, no... slow down a bit.”

He stills and ceases breathing, his eyes wide behind his glasses. I reach out, taking the glasses off, and put them on the bedside drawer.

“Okay,” he says.

“Lie down,” I say, and he lies on his back.

I reach into the drawer and retrieve the vial of lube. I summon my wand from the heap of clothes on the floor.

“Turn on your stomach."

He turns, looking over his shoulder.

“This feels a bit weird, sorry,” I tell him. Pointing my wand between his arse-cheeks, I cast the cleaning spell. He jerks.

“Okay,” I say, “turn on your back.” I put the wand away and take the vial of lube.

"Yes, _Doctor_ ," he says, and _honestly_...

The word, the way he puts it, are doing something to me, making me feel things I’ve never thought of before. I want to own, to dominate, to protect and soothe and take care of - all at once.

I nudge his legs open, settling between his thighs. "Do you want me to inform you on everything I am doing, _Mr. Potter?_ " Lowering my voice, I switch into my professional mode, making it sound soft but firm, punctuating each word. My heart is thudding heavily, I think I might explode, which I hope my voice doesn't show.

"Yes, please do, Doctor," he plays along, spreading his legs wider and closing his eyes.

Kinky bastard.

"Are you nervous, Mr. Potter?"

"I must admit... yes." He throws his arm over his eyes

"Shhh... it is all right. Don’t be." I run my palms up and down his tense thighs. "I am here for you... guiding you all the way through."

He exhales, muscles of his legs relaxing under my touch.

"This is it. Breathe. You have nothing to worry about."

I graze my fingertips over the skin where his thigh meets his hip, edging towards his groin, but avoide touching his hard cock. He spreads his legs wider.

"Please, Doctor... make it good for me," he says, swallowing thickly.

 _Honestly... If he's going to go on like this..._ I don't know... I need to pull myself together.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I am going to prepare you with my fingers," I say softly, coating them with lube, keeping my voice steady and calm as I am used to speak to children during medical procedures. "If you feel any tiniest discomfort, you should outright inform me, do you understand?"

Covering his eyes with his arm, he is silent.

"I need to know that you understand, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Doctor," he breathes out.

"Good." I take a steadying breath. "Now, I am going to insert one finger. Relax."

Reaching down between his arse-cheeks, I touch my fingertip to his hole, circling it slowly and then dipping it inside all the way to the root. I move it in and out and then bring another one, trying to breach him. His arse clenches. I withdraw.

"I am adding the second finger. You shouldn't resist."

Taking his cock in my other hand, I begin stroking it, bringing two fingers and pushing. Resting both hands at the headboard, he exhales, staring at the ceiling.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" I thrust slowly in and out.

"Yes, Doctor. Go on."

"Good." I widen my fingers inside. "You are doing well."

When I bring three, he shudders, gripping the headboard.

"Please, be gentle, Doctor," he whispers.

"Of course." 

I bend down, taking his cock in my mouth, teasing the slit with my tongue. I hear him sucking in his breath. Sliding down onto his cock, I hollow my cheeks, taking it deeper, pushing in with three fingers at the same time. It works, and I carefully dip them further, prodding them up, until I feel how the tip of my middle finger touches his prostate. I suck at his cock, moving my hand in rhythm, feeling that sensitive spot swelling under my touch. 

" _Oh..."_

Hi back arches.

I release his cock with a pop, looking up. He throws his head back, his neck straining into the tense arc, his jaw falling open.

"Does it feel good, Mr. Potter?" 

He nods vigorously.

"You are doing so well. I think we are both ready for the next stage."

I carefully pull out my fingers, and he looks at me as I slick up my cock with lube. I am so hard, it is almost painful to touch it.

"Yes, Doctor... _Now_."

My patience is stretched thin. I need all my self-control intact. "Do you want me inside you?"

"Yeah..."

"I can't hear you, Mr. Potter." I hook my arms under his knees, lining up.

"I want you inside me."

" _Sir._ "

"I want you inside me, _Sir._ "

"Say it again."

" _Fuck me, Doctor Malfoy, Sir._ "

_My goodness…_

The bastard knows what he's doing.

I loom over him and push, watching his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, but they fly open as the head of my cock breaches him. Baring his clenched teeth, he hisses and grips my forearms.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Give it to me, Sir."

He bucks his pelvis up, and I thrust, sinking deeper. He inhales sharply. He is so tight... I stop, biting my lip, breathing deeply in and out, summoning all my self-restraint.

"Do you want to take it, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Doctor."

" _Take it."_

I push. I am pushing, sinking deep down to the root, and he is _taking_ _it._

"Aaah..." He utters, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole body is tense, trembling.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?"

He opens his eyes, leaning up. "Kiss me, Sir."

I kiss him. And kiss, and kiss, and kiss him. His lips are swollen and bruised and gorgeous. I draw his hands up above his head, interlacing our fingers.

"I am going to move now, Mr. Potter."

"I trust you to be gentle, Sir." He closes his eyes.

 _Oh God_ , I wish I could trust myself.

"Open your eyes, look at me," I order. He obeys.

"You will keep them open, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Looking down at him, I begin moving. He stares up at me wide-eyed, breathing raggedly. I angle my hips to reach his prostate, and he hooks his leg around my arse.

"Yeah..." he exhales, "give it to me, Sir."

"Faster?"

"Yes."

I am snapping my hips faster, and he arches beneath me.

"I..."

"What is it?"

"May I close my eyes, Sir?"

"Yes."

Gripping my fingers, he turns his head to the side, bucking up to meet my thrusts, his cock dragging against my stomach. "I...yes...don't stop..."

"You may touch yourself," I say softly, and I am close... so close...

I release his hand. He grips his cock, stroking it.

"Oh my ... Aaah!.."

His arse lifts off the bed, his whole body arching, he clenches around my cock. I feel the splash of his come on my skin. He gasps. I feel my orgasm approaching and finally let go, shuddering, coming inside him with a cry.

**

**V.**

When I open my eyes, it's dawn and grey morning light spills from the window. My face is pressed into the pillow and my right arm is numb up to the shoulder. Trying to wiggle my fingers, I wince. His head is heavy on my arm, cutting the bloodstream off. Carefully, I pull my arm out from under him. He sighs in his sleep.

With his back to me, he is sleeping on his side. Our legs are tangled under the blanket. I extricate them and gingerly sit up, trying not to wake him. I clench my fingers into the fist and spread them out several times, feeling as pins and needles tingle in my fingertips. I take my glasses from the bedside drawer, putting them on, and look down at him. A mess of tangled blond hair, a pale shoulder, a line of his torso dipping down into the waist under the blanket; his feet are showing - long and white, high-arched and with delicate toes. I want to kiss them, one by one. Maybe I would. He is sleeping quietly, his slow breathing barely audible.

Last night was... I've never experienced anything I can compare to. I've woken up another person.

Malfoy... Draco? I don't know how I should call him. After everything we'd done, adressing him by his last name feels dumb and childish. But I don't know how I feel about his given name either, I've never used it before, it sounds alien in my mouth.

What had passed between us last night wasn't just about sex. Sex was intense and shameless and overwhelming... but it was so much more than sex. Our little play, our connection, felt as though we were attuned to each other on the deepest level. I've never done anything like that before. With anyone. I had hardly known I even needed something like this or how to do it - until last night.

Until I called him _Doctor._

I have no idea where it even came from, but he responded as if he'd been waiting for it all along. And I wanted to surrender, to give myself completely, trusting him to do anything to me. I wanted to lie there, helpless in his power, and just _take it_.

He knew what to do on a visceral level. It felt as though we both possessed some secret knowledge, sharing it between us and it was perfect.

Quietly I slide off the bed and head to the bathroom. There's a little discomfort as I walk - a soreness that reminds me of last night. Not a virgin anymore, the thought occurs. This is funny, I haven't considered myself one before.

When I emerge out of the bathroom, he is lying on his back, already awake.

"Hi." He sits up, peering up at me from under his fair fringe.

"Hi." I smile.

I feel a bit awkward, standing here with my limp cock on full display.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

"Good..." I don't know what exactly he is asking.

He chuckles. "I mean, is your arse sore? Is walking uncomfortable?" And just like that - everything is easy again.

"A bit." I shrug, walking to the bed and climbing up to sit in front of him.

His bed-head reminds me of a ruffled bird; his sleepy face is pale and soft and cosily familiar. I want to kiss him, so I do, leaning in, cupping his nape with my hand. Faint morning stubble at his jaw prickles against my lips. I trace his chest with my fingers and he responds, kissing me back lazily.

I look down and see the faded grey outline of the Dark Mark on his left forearm. He stills and pulls away, shifting away from me. The air between us changes and I don't like it. I grip him by the arm as he's sliding off the bed.

"Draco..."

The use of his given name startles us both and he turns.

"What's the matter?" I ask.

"Nothing." His voice flat, he tries to free his arm from my grip.

Oh no, no fucking way. I tighten my grip, pulling him back.

"It's not _nothing_. What's the matter?" I say.

He turns his face away.

"I need the loo, let go," he says.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Just... let go."

"Don't you fucking dare, Malfoy!" I snap, "this is about the Mark, right?"

Sitting with his back to me, he says nothing.

"Come on, I don't give a fuck, it doesn't matter!"

"Oh really?" He mocks

"Not anymore."

"And since when, may I ask?" 

"Since a week ago. Fucking look at me!"

He doesn't turn. "And what had happened?"

"You happened." I don't know how to decorate it.

"You mean one single fuck has changed your whole mentality? Didn't expect it from you, Potter."

"Oh, don't you fucking _'Potter'_ me!"

I'm having none of that shit.

I launch forward, grabbing him from behind, winding my arms around his shoulders and squeeze. I am stronger than he, so he can't throw me off right away.

I rest my chin on his shoulder. "It's not about _fucking_ , you idiot..." I whisper, rocking us back and forth, "it's about me coming to know you better, the other you, the real you."

He makes a sound of protest, but I cut him off. "I don't give a fuck about your Mark, so don't you give me that shit. You may conceal it all you want, but you don't _have to_  do it in front of me."

He sighs, his shoulders sloping. "I put the Glamour on it, for Muggles, you know. It holds for about 24 hours. Then I need to recast."

"It's okay," I say, "recast it if you need to, but stop pushing me away."

I release my grip, and he turns in my arms.

"What do you want, Potter?" His eyes search my face. He is uncertain and cautious, ready to shut down any moment.

"I'm Harry."

"What do you want, Harry?"

"You," I say, because fuck it, and I mean it anyway. "I think I want to keep you."

I pull him into the kiss. He finally surrenders, opening up under my lips, melting, going pliant. He is warm and a little tired and he smells so good. I want to cuddle and squeeze him, so I do, until his spine cracks.

He lets out a breathless laugh. "Honestly, Potter, you need a Teddy-bear."

"No, I don't." I lick under his ear, sliding my hand down his stomach to touch his half-hard cock. "Stop calling me Potter."

He pushes gently into my chest. "I really need the loo, give me a second. Stay where you are." He stands up, heading to the bathroom, and I survey the delicious movement of his smooth round arse.

"I'm not going anywhere," I say in his wake, and he laughs, closing the door.

When he emerges a few minutes later, I'm lying on my back with my hands tucked beneath my head, my dick standing proudly upwards. He climbs up, straddling my thighs, and takes my cock in his hand.

"No...really," he says, giving it a stroke, "how sore are you? I should take a look. Put some spells on."

"Once a doctor, always a doctor." I grin, pushing into his palm.

"Yeah... sort of," he chuckles.

"Not very sore but... a bit," I say, "perhaps some spells... later."

"Later?" He arches his eyebrow.

"Yeah." I push myself up to meet him, catching his lips with my mouth. "Meanwhile..."

He is mouthing along my jaw, all the way up to the ear, catching my earlobe between his teeth.

"Meanwhile... I'm going to _ride_ you,” he says.

My heart stops. "What?"

"Ride you... means me straddling your hips, sinking all the way down on your cock."

"I... know what 'riding' means."

I dip my fingers into the cleft of his arse. My heart is thudding in anticipation of a discovery yet unknown.

"Do you?" He asks.

"To a certain extent... I mean..."

Women did it to me, of course, but _this_... this is entirely new territory.

"But not like _this_?” He murmurs.

"No... not like this," I agree, kneading his firm arse-cheeks and everything I can think of right now is sinking between them.

"Move back," he says, and I shuffle backwards, until my back is propped against the headboard. I grab the pillow, stuffing it under my back. He straddles me and reaches behind, gripping my cock, lining it up.

"Don't you need a... preparation?" I utter, feeling the tip of my cock pressing into his rim.

"No, I am extremely sexually active," he says dismissively, bearing down, letting out a breath. And I am sinking into his body.

" _Extremely?_.. How extremely?" I bite my lip, taking him by the hips, images of him having a different cock up the arse every other day assaulting me.

He props himself on both hands against the headboard above me and throws his head back, impaling himself slowly down to the base, until he is fully seated on my lap, his hard cock poking my stomach.

"How extremely?" I repeat.

He looks down at me, rolling his eyes so hard I think he may actually pass out. "Come _on_ , you are no fun at all, Potter. I've prepared myself in the loo."

"Don't you 'Potter' me," I grunt, digging my fingers into his hips.

He begins moving, lifting himself up on his knees and sinking down. This is incredible and I am already close. His rhythm speeds up as he throws his head back. I take his cock in my hand and begin stroking it. He thrusts into my grip with every upward movement and then bats my hand away, gripping himself, his hand begins flicking in a blur up and down.

"Come on," he whispers, "come on, come for me."

My pleasure ripples and mounts until it shoots through me as I spill myself inside him. He doesn't slow down, pushing himself off the headboard, angling back, leaning back on my legs with his palm behind him, impaling himself again and again with abandon, his hand a blur over his cock, his breath fast and shallow. I feel he begins to clench around my still hard cock. Going still, he gasps and moans and cries out as his hips jerk, his cock spurting over my stomach.

“My goodness…” he utters breathlessly, falling on top of me, smearing his come between us.

**

**VI.**

_Kiss me on the mouth_

"Sorry," I say into my phone, "wilkins is ill, so I'm staying until morning."

I feel his disappointment. We planned going out tonight. It's been a while, actually, regarding his three-week trip to Sweden with a Junior Quidditch Team training camp.

"Alright. I'm just going to bed then."

"Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad, Draco. I just... I missed you. Three weeks."

"I missed you, too," I smile into the phone.

I insisted that he’d bought one. No way am I dealing with owls or Patronus nonsense when he isn't home. Even if I live with Harry freaking Potter, Coach of the National Junior Quidditch Team.

It's been two years and it works. He had moved to mine in a few months after I rescued him from Tyler.

Speaking of Tyler, the fucker had got caught by the Auror team after Harry had tipped-off Weasley as to his whereabouts. His 'victim' turned out to be the trained field Auror, set up for him in a club. I'd been invited as a witness, too, during his investigation.

Weasley is aware we live together. I bet he's still freaking out. Harry came out to a small circle of friends, otherwise his bisexuality is not a public knowledge. He lives with me among Muggles, and he's okay with it, he says.

"I love you, you know?" His voice is warm and tired. I haven't seen him yet. He'd arrived this afternoon when I was at work.

"I know." I grin.

It's easy between us. We don't make big declarations, it's a daily thing. I mean, they are just words that only reflect how we feel at the moment, so why make it a big deal, keeping them a secret? We don’t.

"Come home, okay?"

"Okay," I say, "I love you, too." 

I press the _'End'_ on the phone.

**

I am walking through the night ward, everything is quiet. My little patients are all asleep. The nurse at the reception post - Amanda - gives me a little smile over the counter, peering back into her laptop. It is two in the morning; I yawn. I think it's time for a cup of coffee.

I enter my office, closing the door, and switch the light on. I am about to open the cupboard, when I hear _something_... a little sound from my consulting room. I still, lowering my arm carefully, feeling the handle of my wand in its sheath inside the sleeve of my uniform shirt.

I pull my wand out and noiselessly I tiptoe to the door which is standing ajar, though I remember leaving it closed. Carefully I peer inside but can make out nothing in the dark. Taking the door-handle, I inhale, exhale and concentrate.

I throw the door wide open, pointing my wand. The light from the office falls across the examination couch. And... I see the outline of a body in there. Bare legs are coming out from under a white knee-length fluffy bathrobe.

_What?_

I flick the lights on with my wand.

_Oh hell... no..._

_No way..._

His arms are tucked beneath his head, his eyes are closed, and he tries to keep his face straight, but small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. The bathrobe is open in the middle, and I see there is nothing underneath. 

"Doctor Malfoy, I am in a desperate need of your help, Sir," he says solemnly. And desire is already surging through me... it's been three weeks...

I cast locking and privacy spells at the office door and approach the couch, unbuttoning my shirt on the way.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter. I am here for you."

***** The End *****

**_[[Troye Sivan, 'Bite']](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLuWMOF6vOU) _ **

_Kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_Sing me like a choir_

_I can be the subject of your dreams_

_Your sickening desire_

_Don't you wanna see a man up close?_

_A phoenix in the fire_

_So kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_But please don't bite!_

 

_You can coax the cold right out of me_

_Drape me in your warmth_

_The rapture in the dark puts me at ease_

_The blind eye of the storm_

_Let's go for a walk down Easy Street_

_Where you can be reborn_

_And kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_But please don't bite!_

 

_Aah, I'm pulling on your heart to push my luck_

_Aah, 'cause who's got any time for growing up_

_Kiss me on the mouth…_

_Free_

_Kiss me on the mouth…_

_Free_

_Kiss me, kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_Kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_Kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_Kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_Kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_Sing me like a choir_

_I can be the subject of your dreams_

_Your sickening desire_

_Don't you wanna see a man up close?_

_A phoenix in the fire_

_So kiss me on the mouth and set me free_

_But please don't bite!_

_***_

**I am on Tumblr:**

**[my main blog [oronka]](https://oronka.tumblr.com) **

**[my Drarry blog [Big Draco Energy]](https://big-draco-energy.tumblr.com) **

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinions with me in the comments below if you want :)  
> Tell me how you came across this fic, I'm really interested to know!


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